A Blossoming Romance
by AbstractSong101
Summary: Edward Masen's life was going exactly as he'd planned - safe, secure, and filled with colour. Carlisle Cullen sees the darker side of life, actively seeking out challenges that most people would shy away from. When they meet, Edward tries to add some colour to Carlisle's life, not realising that in doing so, he may have to let a few shadows into his own.
1. Chapter 1

**A little later than planned! Three chapters, one a week.**

**Thanks to Karen EC for being generally kickass, making a delicious banner (on my profile), and pre-reading for me. **

**Any mistakes are mine - they are the only thing I own.  
**

* * *

For a lot of people, flowers are an afterthought – an easy way to apologise, a pretty way to declare your feelings, a gift that requires little consideration.

Not for me. Flowers are my life.

Floristry wasn't the obvious choice of career for someone of my gender but, ever since I was a kid, there was something about these tiny explosions of colour that fascinated me. I vividly remember my aunt preparing for her wedding when I was about seven. She would have these sprawling conversations with my mum about what flowers she wanted for her bouquet, and why. I would ask endless questions, and eventually – probably just to shut me up – my mum bought me a book about flowers and their meanings.

From that moment on, it was my only goal in life to be a florist, and have my own shop.

As soon as I turned sixteen, I started to work at Fanciful Flowers – earning minimum wage – for a sweet lady called Sue. I learnt a lot while I was there, even though it didn't do great things for my bank balance. My interest in flowers, and what they mean to people was unrivalled, but my general flower arranging was terrible. I'm not the most artistic of people. I got better as time went on, working there part-time throughout university, where I gained a degree in Economics and Management.

I bought this place seven years ago, when Sue was ready to retire. It took a fuckload of savings and a huge loan from the bank, but it was worth every penny. I pride myself on stocking flowers from all around the world, making Fanciful Flowers a cut above the rest.

A bell rings, signalling the main door being opened, and I look up from the counter to see a blond man striding in. A blast of cold air follows him, and I'm glad that he thinks to shut the door behind him – you'd be surprised how many people don't. He's wearing a charcoal-grey suit, the tie loosened slightly around his neck, and the top button of his shirt undone. It's early afternoon, but this guy looks like he's been awake for hours; a five o'clock shadow colouring his cheeks is in contrast to his business-wear. In all honesty, the suit is the only thing that makes him look clean cut. He seems to be completely frazzled, his hair sticking all over the place, and I can see that his eyes are darting all around my store.

As the customer reaches the counter, he glances towards the ceiling. I don't know what he's looking for, but I'm more than used to dealing with people in strange moods – usually guys who have no idea how to apologise to their wives, or relatives on their way to a hospital visit. Even in his dishevelment, though, this man is remarkably attractive. I find myself glad that his focus isn't on me; it means I get a proper chance to ogle him. I let him get on with his surveillance, and continue to pretend to figure out the ordering for tomorrow, until he finally speaks.

"I don't suppose this guy came in here today, did he?" I look up, and see him holding up his phone towards me. He is showing me a picture of him and another guy, clearly one of the arms-length shots that couples are so fond of. Objectively, it's a nice photo, but I can't help the slight rush of jealousy that flows through me. I need to get myself a boyfriend, and soon.

"Yeah, he did," I confirm. He was with a guy who looked a whole lot younger than him – early twenties at the most – and they looked like they were pretty close. I'm not about to offer that information to this guy, though. He looks distraught enough as it is.

"You remember him?" He seems surprised, and I bristle slightly.

"It was only a few hours ago, and I pay attention to my customers." I really do. I'm always fascinated at what they buy, and why. I can probably come across as quite nosey sometimes, but I love helping people find the arrangement which says exactly what they want it to.

"I thought you might have to look at CCTV or something," he mumbles. That explains why he was looking at the ceiling, then. He runs his hand through his hair and sighs, before asking, "Was he, uh...? Was he with someone?"

"Yeah, yeah he was."

He flips through some pictures on his phone again, before showing me a picture of the younger man. "Was it this guy?"

I nod, and he starts to tug at his shirt collar, as if he can't breathe.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. I just... I hoped it wasn't true. Fucking hell."

"Do you want a drink or something?" I offer. I feel bad for the guy; he's clearly quite shaken up by the news.

"I don't want to keep you from whatever you're doing." He pockets his phone, and starts fidgeting with his name badge, which is on a lanyard around his neck.

"Well, I'm obviously snowed under," I gesture to the empty store around us. "I think I can spare you five minutes or so, though."

He smiles and nods as I stand up. I keep a kettle in the back office, and flick it on before getting his drink preference. I'm not entirely sure why I'm going to all this effort. There's something about him though; maybe it's because I've been in a similar situation myself. Sometimes you just need someone to talk to, and it doesn't matter who they are.

I re-emerge with two steaming cups of coffee, and slide his over the counter to him. "There you go... uh - -" I trail off, realising I don't even know his name.

"Carlisle."

"Carlisle. Hi, I'm Edward."

"I saw your name badge."

"Oh, yeah, I forgot about that." I always get confused when customers know my name, as if I haven't worn a name badge every day I've worked here. One day I'll get used to it; probably just before I retire.

He tugs at the lanyard around his neck, eventually pulling it over his head and putting it in his pocket. "I'm surprised you didn't read mine."

"It was a bit close to... uh... yeah. I didn't want you to think I was a weirdo, staring at your junk."

I turn round to grab a chair out of the office before he can respond, wheeling it around to the other side of the counter for him. He'll have to shove over a bit if I actually get a customer, but I'm sure he won't mind.

He takes a sip of his drink, and sighs, closing his eyes.

"Have you guys been together long?" I'm not sure he'll want to talk about it, but I can't sit here in silence with a guy I don't even know – that's just weird.

"About eighteen months or so. I had a feeling something was going on, though; James isn't really one to be tied down. I thought I might have managed to persuade him otherwise, but clearly not." He glances up at me, and I'm struck by how blue his eyes are. They remind me of a holiday I once went on to The Canary Islands; I spent so much time in the sea, feeling completely weightless and free. His eyes are the exact same colour as the water there was, and I find them incredibly calming. The blue contrasts amazingly with his white-blond hair. Blue and white flowers represent peace and innocence. I can't say that my thoughts about him are innocent – nor do they contain us being overly peaceful, but it's a lovely mix.

I shake my head, trying to bring myself back into the store. Carlisle's going to think I'm a moron.

"This James guy sounds like a real charmer." I can't quite help myself, even though it's not really my place to say anything; I hate cheaters.

Carlisle laughs. "He had his moments. We had fun together, though, and I really thought we were getting somewhere. Then one of the nurses came on shift a couple of hours ago, and mentioned that they'd seen him leaving here with a guy, and they were looking cosy."

"They were pretty cosy. Sorry if that rubs it in." I feel terrible for adding to his misery, but he knows the worst now, and he deserves all the facts.

He drums his fingers on the counter. "No, it's fine. I just need to figure out what to do."

"You need to get rid of him, he sounds like a dick," I shrug. I probably shouldn't be so blunt, but that's how it is. This guy clearly deserves better.

"Well, yes. I don't know whether to make a big fuss, or just end it quietly. I just want it over with now, to be honest."

"I can't help you with that, I'm afraid. There are no flowers that you send to people when you want rid of them, and that's pretty much my only field of expertise." I sip my drink, enjoying the warmth making its way around my body.

"I'm a doctor; maybe I could send him a severed head."

Coffee shoots up my nose at his words; that was definitely bad timing on my part.

He grins at me, and holds out a box of tissues to me. We keep one on the counter, because so many people react to the amount of pollen in the store. I should buy shares in hay fever medication and tissue manufacturing companies.

"Sorry. I should have waited until you had swallowed."

I raise my eyebrows at him, but say nothing else. Now that I know he will be single soon, I'm appraising him as a potential partner, and any mention of swallowing is not helping me be polite and neutral.

Carlisle tells me a little about his job while we finish our drinks. He's a senior surgical registrar at the local hospital, and is completely crazy about his job. I can think of nothing worse than being around sick people all day, but Carlisle has such an enthusiasm for treating disease that he almost makes me wish I did it, too. He's keen to go and work abroad, too – something he's done before – and eager to help out in countries where they don't have the same level of healthcare as we do. I love meeting people who are passionate about their jobs. I adore mine, even though some days it is tedious, or frustrating. Being a florist has been a dream of mine for so long, and I simply can't imagine being able to do a job that I hated.

Eventually, Carlisle checks his watch, and decides that he needs to get going. I clear our mugs up while he sorts himself out to leave, and an idea hits me.

"Hey, Carlisle. When's your birthday?"

"November."

"November. Chrysanthemums." I duck out into the store and grab him a blue chrysanthemum. "Here, have this."

He takes it from me, confusion written all over his face.

"Every month has a birth flower," I explain. "Yours is chrysanthemum. The colours all mean something too, sometimes different depending on the flower. In this case, though, the blue means peace. Not like world peace... I mean, uh, serenity or calmness. I figured you could do with some."

"Oh, wow, thanks. Does the flower mean anything? Apart from it being my birth flower?"

"Yeah, it means friendship." I neglect to mention that it also represents secret love. That might freak him out, and it's not really what I'm going for. I mean, I like the guy, but I'm not in love with him. Unless it's so secret that even I don't know it yet.

"Thanks, Edward – for the flower, and for the chat. I appreciate it."

"No worries. I hope everything works out for you."

He smiles sadly, and ducks out of the door.

I wheel the chair he used back into the office, and try to go back to the ordering. I can't concentrate, though, and find myself gazing around the store, aimlessly. None of the flowers draw me in, and I sigh; it's not like me to feel uninspired.

Maybe I should create a flower that indicates someone should fuck off. I bet I'd make a fortune.

~-ABR-~

I try not to let my exasperation show on my face; I know it's the most important day in a girl's life, but seriously. These people aren't even talking about flowers; choosing my store to be the place where they want to argue about the colour of the bridesmaid's dresses, instead.

The store is a welcoming place – I made sure of that when I took it over – but I'm increasingly ready to tell these women where to shove their flowers. I don't need the custom that badly.

I let them know that I'll be in the office if they need me, and slink off. I can't listen to them ramble on any more without going mad. It was my turn to go to the wholesalers this morning, and four o'clock starts do nothing for my mood.

I flick the kettle on, hoping that a drink will give me the opportunity to relax a little. The minute I do, of course, the door jangles open. I stay still, hoping that somehow if I don't move, the person will either look around on their own, or leave again.

No such luck.

The bell on the desk dings, and I sigh, turning the kettle back off before heading out to the counter. My frustration doesn't last long though, as I see exactly who it is waiting for my help.

It's Carlisle. He's wearing a black fitted sweater and jeans, and I'm fairly sure I'm drooling.

I grin, happy to see him back again.

"Hey, Edward. I was wondering if you had any flowers that mean 'Sorry that I missed the meal that you cooked especially for me'?'"

I allow myself to be nosey, convincing myself that it's purely for the sake of choosing the right flowers for him. "For your new boyfriend?"

His brows furrow slightly. "There's no new boyfriend."

Oh, Jesus. I hope he had the sense to get rid of the dickhead who cheated on him. "You're not still with that tool, are you?"

Carlisle frowns at me. "James? No, I kicked him to the kerb that night. I was well rid of him; his cheating was probably the best thing that could have happened."

"Oh, okay. So who are you apologising to?"

"My mum."

I think people apologising to their mums are my main source of income. "Ah, you're in the bad books?"

"Yeah. She's threatening never to cook for me again, which would be an absolute travesty. I'm not sure I would still be alive if she didn't demand I visit for dinner every week," he laughs.

"Well, purple hyacinths are used for apologies; pink carnations are used for mums. I could do you a mix of both?"

A smile graces his face, and it's reflected in his eyes. "That'd be brilliant, thank you. Do you want me to come back later?"

"No. Keep me company and stop me going mad while people discuss bridesmaids' dresses," I whisper, as I walk around the counter. "It won't take long."

I edge past the group of women, suddenly grateful that they are so involved in their debate, and grab the flowers I need, and some ruscus for greenery.

"Does six of each work for you?"

"Yeah, that's brilliant, thank you."

Before I can start, I am interrupted by Riley. He has been working on our online orders upstairs and is heading out to deliver the local ones, and dropping the national ones off for transport.

"Hey Ed, there's an order just come in, but I've let them know they've missed the cut off for today's delivery. Is that okay?"

Riley is fresh out of college, and still fairly unsure about what he's doing. He got a great eye though, and what he lacks in business knowledge, he makes up for in arrangements. He's also the only other male who works at the store and, as such, we've become good friends.

"Yeah man, if they're late there's nothing we can do. It's clearly stated. I'll check the emails before I leave tonight if you don't get back in time."

"Okay. See you later."

He flies out of the door, completely missing the look of admiration on one of the women's faces. Clearly some things are more important than the colour of dresses.

I start to make up Carlisle's bouquet, and he chats to me about why he needs them.

"I just fell asleep! I'd been working all weekend and stopped at home before visiting my mum's place. Next thing I know, it was the following morning. So now she's annoyed and my explanation didn't make it any better. I'm hoping flowers work."

The bouquet is starting to come together, and I chuckle at Carlisle's words. "I'm sure it'd be a good start. I'd recommend chocolates, too."

"Do you sell them?"

"No, but maybe we should. The amount of apologies and presents for girlfriends that we get coming through here, it could be quite lucrative." It's actually not a bad idea. I don't know huge amounts about the world of chocolate, but I'm betting people would go for convenience over quality.

I tie off the flowers with some ribbon, and grab some deep purple paper to wrap them in.

"Chocolates are a good idea, actually. Thanks, Edward."

"No worries. I get quite a few grovellers in here, so I've learnt a few of the tricks. Not to mention having to do it more than a few times myself. Working long hours doesn't lend itself to being sociable."

"Exactly," he exclaims, clearly glad to have found someone who understands his work-life balance issues.

I finish off his mother's flowers and hand them over. He pays, thanking me, and turns to leave the store.

I'm hit with a flash of inspiration.

"Carlisle, wait."

I walk over to the carnations and pick out a green one, handing it to him.

He frowns at me. "A green carnation? Does this mean 'I love your cooking' or something?"

"Not exactly," I grin. "It's not for your mother, either. It's for you."

"Oh." He looks adorably confused. "So what does it mean?"

"Google it." Unlike many other flowers, I'm fairly sure the green carnation only has one meaning.

The confusion doesn't leave his face, but I just grin back at him, unwilling to let him in on the secret.

"Uh, okay," he shrugs, obviously giving up on worrying about it. "Bye, Edward. No doubt I'll be seeing you soon." He walks out of the store with a shy wave in my direction.

I turn back to the group of women, who are _still_ arguing about bridesmaids dresses. Despite Carlisle's visit lightening my mood, I can't be bothered to deal with this. I call Jessica out from the back room, where she is making up some arrangements for a funeral.

"Can you man the store for a bit? You're a woman, maybe you can communicate with these people more effectively than I can."

She grins at me, knowing my distaste for people who loiter in the store; although apparently Carlisle's visits are an exception. "Yes, boss. I know women scare you," she teases.

I roll my eyes but let her get away with her comment – she's probably right. Jessica's never been afraid to tell it like it is, even when she started working here. She's only in her early twenties, but has a confidence which belies her age. She has a real way with customers, sliding into an easy rapport with them. It drives me a little mad, because people linger in the store, but she manages to talk people into buying flowers they never knew they needed, so I can't complain too much.

Once I escape into the back room, I busy myself with the arrangements, enjoying the easy rhythm I fall into, despite the sad nature of what I'm doing. I allow my mind to wander to Carlisle, wondering what he's made of the flower I gave him.

I pull my phone from my pocket, Googling green carnations myself, just to double check the meaning hasn't suddenly changed. When I'm convinced that nothing drastic has happened in the world of flower meanings in the last few months, I put my phone away again, shaking my head at myself. These arrangements won't deliver themselves, and I'm glad to sneak out the back way to drive to the funeral home.

I've got a job to do, and I need to get Carlisle out of my head.

Until next time.

~-ABR-~

"It's a secret sign!" Carlisle bursts through my door the next day, still holding the flower. I hope he's put it down at some point. His clothes have been changed, so I'm fairly confident that he has. He looks frazzled though, and I'm starting to wonder if giving him that damn flower was a good idea.

It's the end of my day, the store is closing in a few minutes, and I'm making note of what Riley will need to pick up from the wholesalers tomorrow. We've had quite a rush today, and the list is longer than normal; I hope he's up to the task.

Angela steps out from the office with her coat on, ready to leave. She stops short when she sees Carlisle here, but I shake my head at her.

"It's fine Ang, you get going. I'll see you in a couple of days. Have a good night tonight." I know she's got a meal booked with her boyfriend tonight. I also know that her boyfriend is planning to propose. I'm not about to keep her here longer than she needs to be, especially as I'm fairly sure that Carlisle isn't here to buy anything.

She walks past Carlisle, noticing the flower in his hand, and shoots me a grin.

Carlisle is biting his lip, clearly slightly embarrassed that there is someone else here. The action makes me want to kiss him, but I manage to hold back, wanting to hear his reaction to the flower.

The door shuts, and Carlisle turns back to me. "It was a sign of homosexuality. Oscar Wilde used to wear one. Does this mean that you're gay?"

"Did you think I'd give you one just because you were gay?" I pause for a second, hearing Riley's teasing voice in my head, and I have to say something. "I mean, uh, no pun intended."

He grins, and shrugs. "I didn't think so, but conversations through flowers are difficult to interpret. I don't know how you do this for a living. I had to check about twenty websites before I was completely convinced that was what the flower meant."

"It's probably one of the few flowers that there is a consensus on. It turns out Oscar Wilde wasn't only handy for some good quotes."

Carlisle nods, gently turning the flower in his hands. "So, what does this mean?"

"It means I'm interested," I tell him.

I turn round, scanning the shop for what I need, and hoping we haven't sold out. Usually, I know exactly where everything is in this place, but Carlisle's presence is scrambling my brain.

Finally, I spot the flowers I'm after, and I grab one, handing it to him. The yellow clashes horribly with the green carnation, but I suppress the urge to snatch it back from him.

"Is this a daffodil? Do I have to Google this one, too?"

I laugh. "Not exactly, although it's the same species. It's a jonquil. It means, uh, return my feelings."

Carlisle nods slowly. I turn away to give him a bit of a chance to digest everything, and flick the sign on the main door over to 'closed.' My hand goes to the bolt before I pause and turn back to Carlisle. "Do you mind if I lock the door?" I ask. "I won't if it'll make you feel uncomfortable, but the sign isn't always enough to deter people from coming in."

"You can lock it. I need to be at work in an hour or so, though, so if you murder me, people will be hunting for me quite fast," he warns me with a chuckle.

I grin back at him. "I'll bear that in mind, just a bit of light maiming for today, then. I'll murder you when I know you have a few days off."

I lock the door and usher him into the office. I need a drink, and to sit down for five damn minutes. It's been a long day.

"Oh, did your mum accept your apology?" I ask.

"Oh yeah, she did, thank you. She absolutely loved the flowers. I explained to her what they all meant, and she was so impressed that I'd put that much thought into them. I didn't tell her it was all you, sorry."

"That's fine, you knew what you wanted them to mean, I just helped."

He grins, and looks down at the flowers in his hand. "So, speaking of meanings, what feelings am I meant to be returning?"

"That you're interested?" It comes out as a question, even though I am completely sure of how I feel.

Carlisle is quiet for a minute, and I'm not quite sure what to make of it. Suddenly he asks if he can use my computer.

I agree, not really knowing why, but I'm sure he has his reasons. He's a doctor, so I'm fairly confident he won't be doing anything nefarious. While he is doing whatever he's doing, I make myself a coffee.

When he's done whatever he was doing, Carlisle slips out into the store, promising to be back momentarily.

I sit back at the computer, fighting the urge to check the internet history. I'm sure I will find out in time what he's up to. Instead, I sip my drink and start to type up the stock list to email Riley. There's a lot to get, and he hasn't done many wholesale runs. I might have to go with him. Four o'clock in the morning isn't an attractive prospect for me, but it's not really fair to make him go alone.

Carlisle sticks his head back around the door, and I grin. "Come in."

He shuffles in, his hand behind his back, and I wonder what he's up to.

"The internet might be wrong, so I hope I haven't completely messed this up," he says. "This is my flower to you, to answer your question." He hands me a pink rose, and I grin.

"Friendship?"

His face drops, and he looks away from me, a slight blush – not an altogether dissimilar colour than that of the flower I'm holding – appearing on his pale face.

"Oh, not exactly," he sighs. "I was going for not-love-but-not-nothing-either. The internet said 'admiration' and that was as close as I could get." He shakes his head and shrugs slightly, clearly frustrated that his attempts to return my gesture haven't quite worked out. "I want to date you, basically. See where this could go."

I smile gently at him, wanting to reassure him on both his choice of flower, and his decision. "Pink works for that, definitely. Good sleuthing."

He grins back at me before pulling his phone out of his pocket to check the time. He groans when he sees how late it's getting. "I need to go to work, but I can give you my number, and we can figure something out?"

I smile back at him, grabbing my phone from the desk and handing it to him. "That works for me. Feel free to pop in anytime, too. I can educate you further on the meanings of flowers. You don't need Google when you have me."

He types his number in, and calls himself so he has my number, too.

"Thanks, Edward." He turns to leave but, once again, I stop him before he can. I press him up against the door, and press my lips to his. There's no way I can wait until the next time I see him to do that.

He groans, wriggling against me a little, making my cock wake up.

"Sorry," I tell him when I pull back. "I couldn't resist."

"Don't apologise. Never apologise for that. That'll get me through the long night."

We walk out through the store, and I gently kiss him again before he leaves. "Bye, Edward."

He practically bounces out of the store, clutching his mis-matched flowers, and I can't stop the smile that spreads over my face.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you for all the favourites/reviews :)  
**

**Thanks to Karen EC for being generally kickass, making a delicious banner (on my profile), and pre-reading for me. **

**Any mistakes are mine - they are the only thing I own.  
**

* * *

"Fuck," I grind out.

We're in my office, the shop shut fifteen minutes ago and Carlisle is on his knees in front of me. I'm pressed up against the wall, my jeans resting somewhere around my knees. He has my cock in his mouth and I'm about ten seconds away from smacking my head back so hard that I pass out.

He showed up here on his way to his night shift, not even pretending that he needed flowers. We've been on a few dates now, and have been getting on well. Clearly, he is happy to move our relationship further along, which I have no problem with.

Carlisle's work attire does something unexplainable to me. I spend all my days in a polo shirt, so seeing a suit is a delicious change. He's taken his jacket off, and is left in his dark green dress shirt. The sleeves are rolled up, and his forearms are shown off deliciously. As if I need any more stimulation.

My hands drop to his hair, and he moans around my cock. I'm so close, and the vibrations are almost enough to push me over the edge.

"Jesus, Carlisle." He opens his eyes, looks up at me, and I'm done. My legs almost give out, and I find myself grateful for the wall at my back.

He fastens my jeans for me, and stands back up, a smug grin on his face. His blue eyes are sparkling, and I can't help but smile back. His lips press against mine, his tongue lazily teasing as I slowly come back to my senses.

I reach down to touch him, too, but he pulls back.

"I have to get to work," he grimaces. "I didn't think this plan through too well."

"You're an idiot," I tell him, and he grins at me.

"I'll call in the favour soon, don't worry about that. Are you working tomorrow?"

"No, it's my day off, although I have a few things to work on at home." There's no rest for the wicked, and this business won't run itself, sadly.

"Maybe I could pop in on my way back from work in the morning? I'll be sleepy, but it'd be good to see you." He rolls his sleeves back down, and I try not to pout. His jacket was thrown roughly on my desk, and I hope that it's not too wrinkled as he picks it back up. It seems to have survived quite well, and he pulls it back on, with a small smile for me

"That could work out well, actually," I tell him. "I need to go to the wholesalers first thing, and drop the stock off here for Jessica." Jessica doesn't drive, which is a massive pain in my ass. She's learning, but has failed her test three times already; I'm not sure how many more she can cope with. The sooner she passes, the better, though. If she can't drive, she can't go to pick up the stock when it's her turn to open up. I usually end up doing it, because it's not fair to land it on any of the other staff.

"I'll be just about ready to get back into bed when you arrive," I grin. "I assume that's your plan?"

Carlisle nods, a smile full of promise spreading across his face. "I'll see you in the morning, then?"

"Yeah."

We walk to the door together, and I grab a flower for him. More accurately, I grab him a plant pot, with a smaller-than-usual – but recognisable – flower in it.

"Is this a sunflower?" he asks. "It's tiny."

"Yeah, it's only a fairly new one. It symbolises pure thoughts. Exactly what you need today," I tease.

He shakes his head, laughing a little, and I grab him a plastic bag to save his car seats getting dirty.

Before I hand it to him, I hesitate. "You don't have to take it, I won't be offended. I know sunflowers are a little tricky."

"I'll take it to the courtyard-garden at work, if that's okay with you? The kids there will love it."

I smile. I love that Carlisle is always thinking about ways to make his patients happy. He seems like the kind of doctor you would want to have treating you.

"Excellent. If you ever need anything else for work, come to us. I'm sure we can sort you out." They've banned flowers on most hospital wards now, to try to reduce infection – and our profits have taken a bit of a hit as a result. Not everyone sticks to the rules, but enough people do. I feel as though that's not fair on the patients, though; I bet the flowers used to cheer up their stays a little, so this contribution might help to get some of that feeling back.

"I'll let the on-site gardeners know, if I remember. I'm sure they'd be pleased to hear it. Thanks, Edward." He kisses me, keeping it chaste, but his hand teasing under my t-shirt tells a different story.

"Go," I groan."Before I hold you hostage."

~-ABR-~

I yawn loudly, and Riley grins up at me from his perch further down the store. He's on the early shift with me, putting out everything we bought from the wholesalers this morning. I raise my eyebrows at him questioningly, as I rub my eyes. It's summertime, which means getting out of bed at horrible times of the morning feels easier, but I can't help missing the dark mornings where I can still do my work half asleep. Ideally, of course, early mornings would no longer be a part of my routine.

"Long night?" Riley asks, a smirk still playing on his face.

"Maybe," I allow. "It's nothing your young ears can hear about, though. I don't want to corrupt you."

He snorts, and I smile at him. I've heard all about what he gets up to at weekends and, if even half of it is true, I don't think I could corrupt him even if I tried. Riley is a good looking guy, and he enjoys all the benefits that it brings him.

"Is it that blond guy who comes in all the time?" he asks, his attention back on the job in hand.

"Yeah." I tap my pen against the desk distractedly; I'm trying to decide which arrangements I should make for the window display today. It's a delicate balance between trying to make use of stock that won't sell, and making things look good enough that they invite people in.

"Are you two together now, then?"

I groan, getting nowhere with my task. "Swap jobs with me, you're better at this than I am."

"Answer my question, and I will," Riley bargains.

I narrow my eyes at him. "I'm still your boss, you know."

He grins cheekily at me, his blue eyes sparkling as he steps back from the tulips. He knows full-well that I don't mean any threat by my words.

"Yes, we're together, we have been for about six months" I admit, as we swap places. "That's all the information that you're getting from me, though, so shut up and get on with your work before I decide to fire you."

I don't get a response and I look over, as I grab a handful of lilies, to see Riley studying the stock lists intently. His tongue is sticking out as he concentrates on his task, and I grin to myself. Aside from being too nosy, he's a good kid, an excellent worker, and I enjoy being on shift with him.

We work quietly together, the breakfast show on the radio keeping us company as we get our jobs completed. As we finally approach a point where we can stop for coffee before the store opens, we're interrupted by a banging on the main door. I groan as Riley laughs; this isn't unusual. People forget birthdays, or special occasions, and dash to us early in the morning, wanting us to open so that they can pick up a present for a loved one before their oversight is noticed.

If I decide to let them in, I tend to charge them extra.

I stand up and stretch the kinks out of my back before walking to the door. Riley ducks into the office, hopefully to start off a batch of coffee for us.

The door sticks a little as I wrestle with the various locks, and I just about manage to stifle a curse as I finally wrench it open.

Damn thing.

I'm surprised, and more than a little pleased, to see Carlisle on the other side of the door. I left him sated and comfortable in his bed a few hours ago. Now he looks flustered, and it's strangely reminiscent of the first time we met. I hope that he's simply been in a rush to see me, but the tension on his face is telling me otherwise.

His eyes dart around the store before he finally meets my gaze. "Can we talk?"

I nod slowly, and gesture towards my office. Whatever this is about, I'm fairly sure I don't want to be standing in the middle of the store to do it.

Riley grins knowingly at me when I request he ducks out of the office for a while, but his face falls as soon as he sees Carlisle's expression. He pats me on the arm as he walks past, offering a quick greeting to Carlisle before pulling the door shut as he leaves.

I perch on the edge of my desk, and raise my eyebrows questioningly at Carlisle.

In response, he steps towards me and grabs hold of my hands, squeezing them briefly before relaxing his grip a little. I can feel the tension flowing through him, and I wonder what could have got him this worked up.

He swallows nervously, his thumb stroking along the back of my hand. "You know I wanted to work abroad again?"

My stomach lurches as I start to realise where this is going. I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

"And you know I applied to Doctors Without Borders?" he continues, his eyes focussed on our joined hands. I break one hand away from his grip, pushing his chin up slightly before retaking his hand. I need him looking at me.

He gives me a half-smile, tinged with sadness, and a hint of trepidation. His next words explain exactly why. "Well, they accepted my request. They called me this morning. They want me to go to Afghanistan."

My heart jolts in my chest, my worst fears realised. "Fuck," I exclaim. "That's a fucking warzone, Carlisle."

"I know," he groans. "I thought they'd send me to a place where they needed extra support with healthcare. But I'm a surgeon, Edward. And I spend most of my days in emergency medicine. I'm most useful somewhere like a warzone."

"You could get hurt," I growl. I can feel the panic bubbling up inside me. "You could get killed."

Carlisle remains calm, a complete contrast to his appearance and demeanour when he arrived here. "I knew that when I applied, Edward. They do everything they can to keep you as safe as they can. And the people out there don't have a choice about their safety."

I groan, sitting on the desk and pulling Carlisle closer to me with my legs hooked around his. "Stop making me feel like a selfish dickhead for not wanting you to go." I laugh, but it's humourless.

"Sorry," he says, wrapping his arms around me. "You're allowed to be worried, Edward. I'm scared, too. But it's something I need to do."

I nod, pressing my lips together so I don't blurt anything else out. We stay in a content silence, locked in each other's grasp, and trying to wrap our minds around what's going to happen.

"When do you leave?" I finally ask.

Carlisle pulls back slightly, his hands coming to rest on my shoulder. "The end of next month."

I groan. That's not long at all. "Fuck."

"Hey." He moves his hand down to poke my side. I wriggle away slightly, grabbing his hand and glaring at him. "It just means we have six weeks to pack as much fun in as possible. I need some good memories to keep me warm out there."

"Is it going to involve more poking?" I grumble.

"Well, maybe. If you're lucky," Carlisle laughs, and I can't help laughing along with him.

I glance up at the clock and groan. "I need to open up. Are you working today?"

"No," he grimaces. "I need to go and tell my parents about this job. Do you have any flowers that might help me with that one?"

It probably wasn't a serious question, but finding appropriate flowers is a challenge I never back down from. I take Carlisle's hand, and lead him out into the store, directing Riley back to the office to get some coffee brewing before my brain goes into complete meltdown.

I flick the sign on the door over, and then pick up a bunch of white and purple gladioli. "These mean strength," I explain. "I think they're probably the most appropriate to the situation."

"Thanks, Edward." Carlisle perches on a stool near the counter as I arrange them for him, chatting quietly to me while I work. Riley brings out some coffee for us both, joining our conversation for a few minutes, until another customer takes his attention.

The arrangement is fairly easy, and I hand it to Carlisle with a sad smile. "Good luck," I offer.

"Thanks, I think I'll need it," he laughs. "Can I see you later? I'm off work today."

"Yeah, I finish at midday." It can't come soon enough, my head is pounding already. "You can come over. Bring an overnight bag again, I'm not wasting time sleeping in separate beds if we don't have to."

Carlisle flushes slightly, glancing around the store to see if anyone heard me before nodding. "I'll be over this afternoon, then."

As soon as he leaves the shop, I head back to the office, content that Riley can hold the fort until Victoria and Angela arrive in a few minutes. I slump down in my chair, and open up an internet session, intent on finding everything I can on the work Carlisle will be doing out there.

It's not long before I wish I hadn't bothered.

~-ABR-~

The clock behind me in my office ticks obnoxiously, and I suppress the urge to grab it and smash it into pieces. I'm making my final plea to Carlisle to stay, even though I know he won't change his mind. He leaves for the airport in a couple of hours.

Having spent the last week staying at my place, he came with me to work this morning, unwilling to separate for any length of time. We've holed up in my office since we got here, and have only just managed to pull our clothes back on. Carlisle was eager to christen the couch in my office before he left, and I'm not about to refuse him anything today.

I'm leaning back against my desk, my hands gripping the edge in a desperate attempt to keep myself from grabbing Carlisle and never letting him go. He is standing well within grabbing distance, trying to make me understand why he feels the need to leave. I'm being a brat, and I know it. But I'm fucking terrified.

"I'm a florist, Carlisle. People come in every fucking November to buy poppies and wreaths, and they tell me their stories about the people they've lost. I don't want to be someone telling their story."

He's shaking his head before I've even finished speaking. "I won't be on the front line. I'm going to be in a hospital, working on locals, not soldiers. I doubt we'll be a target."

His argument isn't convincing me. "Where's the hospital, Carlisle?" I ask with my eyebrow raised. I already know the answer.

I can see him deflate slightly before he answers. "Helmand."

The name is familiar to me, and not just because Carlisle has told me where he's heading before – it's familiar to anyone with access to news. I groan, scrubbing my hand over my face.

"That's where most people are injured, Edward," he argues before I can say anything. "It's where surgeons are needed."

A flash of guilt jolts through me, and I sigh. His argument is valid, and we've been over this a hundred times already. "I know. I'm being a dick, sorry," I admit. "I'm just scared for you."

Carlisle steps forward, coming to stand between my legs and rubbing up and down my arms with his hands. My hands finally loosen from the edge of the desk, and I hold onto his shirt, trying not to let the tension flowing through my muscles crumple it.

"Would it make it better or worse if I told you I was scared, too?" he asks, with a wry chuckle, resting his forehead against mine. I lift my chin to press a gentle kiss to his lips, my thumbs stroking his sides. Suddenly my energy is focussed on relaxing him, and not my own freak-out

"I don't know. Just... just make sure you're safe out there, please? Don't go playing the hero or anything. Then you won't need to be scared."

"We won't be in those situations, Edward," Carlisle argues. I pull back from his embrace a little, and tilt my head at him. He sighs and relents. "I promise."

A comfortable silence drifts over us, the damn clock the only noise in the room. I spend the time trying to remember every detail of how Carlisle feels under my hands, trying to inhale his scent so it's imprinted in my brain. I'm going to miss him like hell; two months is going to feel like a lifetime, even though it's only a few months fewer than we've been dating. Carlisle's hands run over my back, and he places soft kisses along my neck, jaw, and lips. It's quiet and relaxed – everything we haven't been for the last few weeks.

After a too-short amount of time, Carlisle shifts under my hands. "I need to go," he groans. "I have to get my stuff and go to the airport."

I swallow nervously. I really don't want this to be happening. "Do you want me to come to the airport with you?" I offer. "They'll be fine without me here, it's not like I've done anything all morning anyway."

Carlisle shakes his head. "You stay here and keep busy. The last thing I need is you getting into an accident on the way home from the airport because your mind is elsewhere."

I nod; I didn't really want to go anyway. Saying goodbye now is bad enough, I don't need to do it all over again in public.

Pulling in a deep breath, I push away from the desk and grab Carlisle's hand. "Okay, come on. Let's get you something to remember me by."

Angela and Riley are on the shop floor, but they keep to themselves and their customers as Carlisle and I leave the office – they know what's going on. I walk us over to the flowers I'm after and grab a sprig of white heather.

"It's meant to represent protection," I explain as I give it to him. I hope he doesn't notice the slight tremble in my hand. I shake my head to try to clear it a little. "Although I'm sure it won't last long in that heat, so just... pretend it's still with you."

"I will," he agrees easily. We walk to the door, and I grip his hand tightly, the thought of letting him go completely terrifying me.

"We probably should have said goodbye in the office, huh?" I force a laugh out as I see Riley and Angela pretending to not pay us any attention. I walk us outside, we're still in view of the windows, but at least we can talk without being overheard.

Carlisle shrugs. "At least being observed will stop me getting you naked. Again. I'd probably be late if we did that."

I tug on his t-shirt playfully. "Well, in that case..."

"Stop it," he gently chastises. He buries his head in my neck and inhales deeply. "I'm going to miss you, Edward."

My hands clench his shirt, and I feel the play of muscles in his back as he wraps his arms around me. "I'll miss you, too. Promise me you'll be safe? You have to come back to me."

I can't see him, his head is still resting on my shoulder, but I hear him sniff slightly, and I squeeze my eyes shut in an attempt to control my own emotions.

He pulls back so that I can see him, his eyes full of sadness. "Do you have a flower which means 'I'm glad you're home'?" he asks.

"You'll have to wait and see, won't you?" I try to keep my tone light, a complete contrast to my dark mood.

Carlisle nods, leaning in to gently kiss me. "I'll come back," he whispers against my lips. "I promise."


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry it's so late, I had a huge crisis of confidence, and two weeks from hell in work. Thank you all for your patience  
**

**Thank you for all the favourites/reviews :) I will finish replies ASAP!  
**

**Thanks to Karen EC for pre-reading for me. **

**Any mistakes are mine, I have been tinkering with this for a while - they are the only thing I own.**

* * *

I watch the news every day, the newly installed TV screen in my office becoming my greatest source of company. I feel like I'm holding my breath every damn day, waiting for news, and at the same time hoping that there isn't any. I retreat from the customers and the daily grind that I loved so much, and engross myself in work that will keep me no further away from a news source than I absolutely have to be.

My co-workers soon learn to leave me alone, only disturbing me when absolutely necessary. I'm lucky they are capable of manning the store alone.

Carlisle emails once a week, if possible, to let me know that he's okay. He seems to be enjoying the work he's doing out there, and it makes me feel even worse that I can't seem to think of anything beyond him.

I miss him being around; I miss his out-of-the-blue text messages, which tell me about the bizarre things he sees when he's working. I miss his – often wrong – research into what flowers mean, and his attempts to converse with me through them.

I miss having him in bed with me at night, and waking up to his sleepy, pliable form in the mornings.

An arrangement of white heather and blue chrysanthemums sits in my office, a gesture of protection on my part for Carlisle. I refresh it every couple of days, and it offers me a modicum of comfort. As the first month passes, I start to add some purple lilac to it. Angela gives me a questioning glance as I walk past with it, but I shake my head at her. I've had a lot of time to ruminate on my feelings, but I'm not ready to share them with anyone yet, except Carlisle.

And he's not here.

I kick back in my chair, muting the rolling news as it turns to more frivolous stories. Riley comes in to drop the stock-take list he's done on my desk, and gives me a small grin.

"Hey, Edward, we're having a few drinks tonight to celebrate Jess finally passing her driving test. Do you want to come with us? Out of all of us, you should be celebrating the fact you'll have fewer early mornings."

I'm shaking my head before he's even finished his question. "I'll pass. Thanks anyway, Rile."

He nods, clearly expecting nothing less than the answer he got. He moves to leave the office, but hesitates. "Are you going to stay in and watch the news, again? It's not healthy, you know. You're going to drive yourself mad."

I look up at him, and tilt my head, swallowing down the flash of anger that flows through me. Riley doesn't deserve my wrath. I can't quite keep the bitter tone from my voice, though. "Thanks for the advice, Dr, Biers, but I'll be fine. Have a good evening."

It takes him a couple of seconds to decide whether or not to continue to argue with me, but he chooses not to, and leaves me to stew some more.

I turn my attention back to the news, and once I'm satisfied it's covering nothing I care about, I set my thoughts to tomorrow's wholesale orders. The routine helps to keep me sane – if that is what my current mental state can be described as.

It's only been six weeks, and I feel like I'm going mad.

~-ABR-~

I ignore the surprised looks of my co-workers as I leave the office and park myself behind the counter, a beaming smile on my face.

"We're having a team meeting after the store closes, guys," I inform them

They nod, and continue on with their various jobs, clearly unwilling to engage any further with me. I don't blame them. The store has been running fine in my partial absence and, while I should have kept a better grip on my emotions, it's led me to think it might be time to open up another store somewhere else. These guys don't need me here all the time. I've spent some time looking at the viability of another store, and I think it might be a good idea, even if it stresses me out. Carlisle's trip away has made me think I'm a little too comfortable where I am; I need to challenge myself a little.

Only Angela and Riley are working the close today. Jessica is revelling in her new-driver status – and has been offering to do as many early and delivery shifts as she can – and it's Victoria's day off.

I make them a drink as we settle in my office that evening. They sit on the couch – the couch I have avoided since Carlisle left – and look at me expectantly as I take a seat on my desk.

"I'm sorry, guys," I start. Riley and Angela glance at each other, clearly surprised by my apology, but remain quiet. "I've been a dick recently, and there's no excuse for it."

Riley sips his too-hot drink, presumably to stop himself from making a comment which might get him fired. Angela, on the other hand, looks at me sympathetically.

"You're worried about the person that you love," she offers. "That's an okay excuse."

Riley's eyes widen at her words, the blue contrasting wildly with the heat-induced pink tint on his cheeks.

I run my hand through my hair, unwilling to discuss that particular issue with anyone but Carlisle. "Well, either way, I'm sorry. You guys have basically been left alone for the last few weeks, and that's not okay."

"It's all right, boss," Riley laughs. "I kept everyone in order while you were moping."

"That's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about, actually. I'm considering opening another store, and if that happened, I'd need someone to manage this one." I grin at Riley. "Not you, Rile, obviously, you're an idiot, but one of the girls might be good at it."

He rolls his eyes good-naturedly at me, knowing I'm only joking.

"I'll let Jessica and Victoria know, too," I continue. "Even if I decide to do it, it won't be for a while, but I wanted to give you enough time to do any college courses you think might help."

Angela nods at me, clearly thinking seriously about my offer. I think she and Victoria will both be keen to take over. I'll be interested to see how much work they put into learning the ropes a little. I can see myself taking some time off when Carlisle comes home, so that we can have some time together. It would be an ideal opportunity for someone to step up and see what managing the store entails.

"So what's put you in this good mood, boss?" Riley asks, a teasing smile on his face.

Angela nudges him. "If you can't figure it out, Riley, you're too young to hear the answer." She looks up at me appraisingly. "Only the promise of getting laid makes Edward that happy. Carlisle must be coming home."

"Are you done, Psychic Sally?" I laugh. Her reasoning is scarily accurate.

"Am I right?" she asks.

I can't keep the smile off my face. "He's been given a date for returning, yes."

"Then yeah, I'm done."

We chat for a little longer, while they finish their drinks. Riley is telling me about a road trip he and his friends are planning, when Angela slips out of the office. By the time she returns, we're discussing the best ways to pack four grown men – and enough beer to sustain them – into a small car. Angela rolls her eyes at the pair of us.

"You two are such boys," she groans. She's holding a vase of flowers, which she offers to me. Red and yellow roses. "They're to brighten your office a little. You're celebrating now, finally!"

"Thanks, Angela." I place the vase in full view of my desk. I'm not quite ready to get rid of the arrangement I put in my office for Carlisle, but these will make a nice addition to the room. It's needed something cheerful for a while. "You guys can head off, if you want? I'll do stock-take tonight."

Riley is out of the door before I've even finished my offer, but Angela hangs back for a second. She approaches me, and rubs her hand soothingly along my upper arm.

"It's good to have you back, boss."

~-ABR-~

I rearrange the flowers in the window for the hundredth time this morning, and hear Jessica chuckle behind me.

"A watched pot never boils, Edward," she warns me, with a grin.

Groaning, I take a step back from the glass. "I know."

She rubs my shoulder reassuringly. "He'll be here as soon as he can, I'm sure."

Carlisle refused to let me pick him up from the airport, maintaining that I wouldn't fully concentrate on driving if he was in the car with me. He was probably right, but that's little comfort when I know he's back in the country and we haven't been able to see each other yet.

This morning, I decided working would be the best plan because I'd keep myself busy, however I've done nothing but pace all day. Poor Jessica has had to take on the work of two people because I've been so useless – thankfully it's been a quiet day.

I glance down at what I'm wearing and wish that I was in something a bit better looking than this polo shirt.

"Do you think I should change?"

Jessica rolls her eyes at me. "Didn't you first meet here?"

My eyes drift back to the door for a second before I reply. "Yeah, we did."

"Then he's seen you in this before." She grins. "I'm fairly sure you being clothed won't last long, anyway."

I don't chastise her for the comment. If I'm honest, I hope she's right.

Seeing that I'm not rising to her bait, she continues. "You know, if you're thinking of changing the uniforms, I've got a whole folder full of ideas."

This isn't news; she petitions me least once a week to change the staff outfits. If I'd have been thinking straight, I wouldn't have brought it up at all. "I'm sure you have, Jess. Maybe another time, yeah? I'm going to wait in the office before I ruin the floor with my pacing. Will you direct Carlisle through when he shows up, please?"

"Yeah, sure. I'll leave the folder on your desk tomorrow, boss."

We both know it'll be a few days before I come up for air, but I acknowledge her comment anyway – she might have some good ideas, I guess – and then head back into the office. I grab some coral roses on my way, and some paper to wrap them in. At least sorting an arrangement for Carlisle will help to pass the time.

I lose myself in my work, as I often do, needing this to be perfect for Carlisle, even if he won't notice it in the same way I will.

A quiet tapping on the door makes my heart jump, and I look up to see it slowly creeping open. Jessica would never open my door like that, it can only be one person, and it feels like it takes him an hour to appear. For my part, I can do nothing but remain frozen behind my desk. It's been three months since we last saw each other, and I'm a jumble of nerves and anticipation.

When he finally appears, it takes me a moment to realise it's him. While I've seen him in casual clothes – and a lot less – before, this version of Carlisle is one I have never met. He's wearing a scruffy-looking dark green t-shirt, and combat trousers. A few months in the sun have given his arms and face a colour they could never achieve in England. His hair is longer than I remember it being, and the most drastic change of all is his beard. He looks every inch of the person who has just travelled three thousand miles after a few months in hell, completely exhausted – and yet he still manages to look completely fuckable.

I stand up from my desk after he whispers a small "Hi." As soon as I get close to him, he walks into my embrace, and I clutch him like he's the only thing enabling me to breathe.

"You're back," I say unnecessarily.

Carlisle laughs into my shoulder. "I am. I'm glad you recognised me."

"I almost didn't," I admit. "I might not have done if I wasn't expecting you."

His beard tickles my neck as he talks. I'm not sure that I like it. "I was going to spend longer at home, and get cleaned up a little better, but I was in a rush to see you. I should have let you pick me up from the airport. I think the taxi driver was ready to murder me by the time I got home."

"Well, I'm glad he didn't. And I'm glad you came here quickly, too, even if you do smell like aeroplanes."

I squirm away from his fingers as he jabs them into my side in retaliation for my comment and pick up his arrangement from my desk.

"This is for you," I grin, handing them to him as I sit back on my desk.

He stands between my legs admiring the flowers. "Do I have to let go of you to Google what these mean? Because I'm not sure I can stretch to that right now."

"No, it's all right." I can feel the blush creeping into my cheeks, and I wonder if maybe I should let him find out for himself. I could always sit on his lap while he was surfing the internet. "They mean desire. Passion." I scratch the back of my neck while Carlisle raises an eyebrow at me, a sly grin appearing on his face.

"Of course I did that before I knew you had the beard, I might have to take it back, now," I tease.

Carlisle laughs, placing the flowers on the desk and wrapping his arms around me. "I'll let you into a secret," he murmurs, as he places kisses along my jaw. "I don't want to shave it off because I think I'll have a beard tan line."

I bite my lip to stop myself from laughing. "Well, how about if I tell you I don't have plans for us to be outside the house in the next few days?"

"Then I guess it can go, as long as you promise not to laugh."

"Scouts honour," I nod. My fingers tighten his t-shirt over his waist. Just feeling him this close to me is better than anything I have been imagining over the last few lonely months.

Carlisle presses forward, forcing me to lean back a little over the desk. "So, about these flowers..."

~-ABR-~

With a shy grin, I hand Carlisle a red rose and place a kiss on his cheek. He's clean-shaven again, for the first time in over a month, and I'm almost sorry to see the light smattering of stubble that he kept, go. It's his first day back at the hospital today, and despite being back in his old job, he's clearly nervous about going.

I squeeze his hand, whispering an "I love you" into his ear before he leaves.

Angela smiles at me as I walk back to the counter. "How's he doing?"

Carlisle has been spending a lot of time with me at the store over the last month – partly because I still had to work, but also because he was struggling to process everything that he'd seen while he was away. In the safety of the darkness of my bedroom at night, he would confess he was having trouble sleeping, having trouble feeling comfortable when he had seen that there were so many people in the world who were not. He was almost reluctant to return to work here, knowing that he was providing care to people who didn't always appreciate everything they were given.

We talked it through every night. Sometimes I would just hold him while he spoke, needing to purge everything he'd seen. I knew there were people he was unable to save, and how terrible he felt about them. I gave him all the reassurance I could, but I knew that he needed people who truly understood what it was to work in a life-or-death career. Slowly, I tried to talk him around to going back to work and, after a month or so, he finally felt ready.

Everyone at the store has seen how tired we both were, and while most assumed it was for other reasons – Riley in particular heartily congratulating us on Carlisle's return and our subsequent exhaustion – Angela seemed to grasp there was something more going on. She would often take Carlisle to one side, talking about anything and everything until he felt able to open up to her. It took the burden off me a little, too, and gave me a chance to seriously explore the idea of opening a new store.

I return Angela's smile. "He's doing okay, I think. He'll be glad to get back to work, even if he doesn't think so at the moment."

She nods, and we leave the conversation there. While I'm happy that Carlisle found someone else he felt comfortable around, I still don't feel right talking about him when he's not around.

I head back into the office and bury myself in paperwork and business plans for the new store. I'm buried in a list of possible locations when my phone rings.

It's Carlisle.

"Hey, baby!"

"You sound happy," I grin. "Good day so far?"

"Yeah, it's going well. I can't stay on long, but a few of us are going out after work. Do you want to come, too?"

"Would they mind?"

"No, of course not," he laughs. "I'd really like you to come. You're off tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I am, too. So we can have a few drinks and see what happens." His voice drops slightly and I know exactly what he's implying. I was worried he'd be exhausted after his first day back, and content with the thought we'd be slipping into bed tonight to do nothing but sleep. Apparently, though, Carlisle is full of energy, and I am totally okay with that.

"In front of your work colleagues?" I ask. I know he's out at work, but I don't think he'd want me all over him when they're around. I might have to pace myself.

"They won't last as long as we will." I can hear the smile in his voice. "Please come?"

"Okay, I'll meet you down there later."

"Excellent. I love you, Edward. I've got to go."

He's gone before I can even respond. I can't say that I'm sorry about that – hearing him so happy being back at work is more than I could have hoped for, especially only one day in. I'm sure it won't be a completely smooth road, but I'm not going to pass up the opportunity to enjoy it while the going is good. Drunk Carlisle is nothing but fun.

~-ABR-~

I pick up the wreath from the countertop and walk Carlisle out of the store, locking the door behind us. I don't normally open the shop on Sundays, apart from this specific Sunday every November. People are always in a desperate last-minute rush to get their poppies, so I try to open for a couple of hours.

Carlisle was determined to get to a memorial service, and I promised him I would close up in plenty of time if he waited at the store with me. He did, although he must have checked his watch once every minute. In the end, I sent him into the office to make us a flask of coffee, just so he'd be out of my hair for a bit.

We walk down to the memorial together in the driving rain. Carlisle grips my hand tightly. I know this is bringing back memories for him – even though he was there with an impartial organisation, the impact of war was right in front of him. He's keen to go back sometime in the future, despite how it affected him, and it's something we've started talking about. I'm not sure I'm ready to let him go again anytime soon, though.

Once we arrive, we stand in the pouring rain, listening to the veterans talk. Carlisle stands in front of me, and I wrap my arms around him.

He turns to me and kisses my cheek. "I'm glad I have you."

"I'm glad I have you, too," I smile.

My arms tighten around Carlisle as a young soldier goes up to the stage. He looks around Riley's age and is in a wheelchair. My heart clenches. He talks for a short while about his experiences in Afghanistan, how he came to lose his legs, and how grateful he is that he had such a great unit around him to save his life.

While he speaks, I rest my chin on Carlisle's shoulder, thankful that I've found a man who cares about other people so much, and thankful for my life.

I know what's coming after this story, having been to many of these before, and I whisper to Carlisle. "Hey, if you don't know the meaning of these flowers, it's coming. Take notes."

He elbows me gently in the ribs, and I chuckle softly. He's been keen to learn the basics of flower meanings, so I've been teaching him a couple every week. He's offered to teach me the medical names for body parts in return but – after a whole day spent naked together, thoroughly exploring every inch of him – I managed to persuade him that I knew everything I needed to about them already.

I push him gently to lay our wreath down, and watch him as he goes. I'm scared at the prospect of him leaving again – I can't even imagine what the families of people who go to fight must feel like. I'm proud of him, though. I'm not sure it's anything I could ever do, but he's using everything he's got to help people who need it, even at his own risk. I smile as I watch him help an elderly lady place her arrangement, she kisses him on the cheek for his trouble, and I see him blush slightly.

He walks back towards me, and I grin at him, pulling him back into my arms as I teasingly whisper, "My hero."

That earns me another dig in the ribs, but I shrug it off, holding him closer as the young soldier starts to read out a poem.

"_In Flanders fields the poppies blow  
Between the crosses, row on row..."_

* * *

**Fin.**_  
_

**The poem is "In Flanders Fields" by John McCrae.**

**MSF (Doctors Without Borders) has a website, and a tumblr. I'll put the links on my profile. Both are well worth checking out. **


End file.
